


this could be anywhere in the world

by alexjulies



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Depression, Derek Hale Character Study, Gen, Season 2 & 3a companion, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:40:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25862965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexjulies/pseuds/alexjulies
Summary: depression swallows him.it isn't on purpose. it's gradual, debilitating, destructive. it renders derek powerless in a way he's already entirely too comfortable with.and he's powerless to stop it.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	this could be anywhere in the world

**Author's Note:**

> repost from my years-old blogging days as youshinebrighter21, youshinebrighter23, and a couple others thrown in the mix that i don't remember. proud as hell of this one.
> 
> please be aware that this contains some heavy shit. exploration into derek hale's psyche. includes references to suicide, suicidal thoughts, and canon-compliant character deaths (erica & boyd).
> 
> follow me on tumblr @ asexuhale

Depression swallows him.

It isn’t on purpose. It’s gradual, debilitating, _destructive_. It renders Derek powerless in a way he’s already entirely too comfortable with. Makes him wonder if maybe he’s always been this way because he can’t remember the last time he _felt_. Can’t remember the last time that inhaling wasn’t accompanied with an overwhelming desire to choke on the taste of smoke and death thick in the back of his throat.

But he keeps breathing. He keeps waking up in the morning.

And he’s powerless to stop it.

//

A lack of power is easier. A lack of power means a lack of responsibility, a lack of people who give a shit about him, who want better for him. But killing Peter means giving up that lack of power - means _gaining_ responsibility.

Derek watches the three betas under his charge as they talk together in the train station and huffs out a self-deprecating laugh.

 _They wouldn’t care_ , he thinks, eyes flicking over when Isaac shoots him a glare. Derek can hear the bones still resetting in his hand and looks away.

_They’d probably prefer it if I was gone, anyway._

//

Derek’s heard of werewolves committing suicide before. Wolfsbane is usually the preferred method, though it’s a slow and painful death.

There’s a jar of crushed wolfsbane hidden in the corner of Derek’s train car. Sometimes, when his betas are at school, Derek sits on the opposite side of the car and just _stares_.

Wonders if it hurts more than the searing of his flesh to burn ink into his skin.

Wonders if it hurts more than losing his entire family.

 _It wouldn’t hurt at all,_ he thinks. _Nothing does._

//

He can hear them - Boyd and Erica, sitting in the corner of the station as they whisper back and forth. They talk about leaving, about finding another alpha, about forming their own pack. They talk about classes, about wanting their licenses, about wanting more than nights spent with an alpha who doesn’t want them. Not really.

“We’re _needed_ here,” Erica says softly. “Not wanted.”

Derek wishes he could prove them wrong.

//

He doesn’t sleep that night. Simply stares at the glass jar he knows is in the corner and thinks _I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to be here, I can’t fucking **be here**_ until the words all start to run together. An ache starts low in his chest and Derek squeezes his eyes shut, hands clenching into fists as he pushes it away.

 _This is easier_ , he thinks. _Not feeling is easier._

The ache eventually subsides and Derek opens his eyes again.

Isaac’s phone goes off a while later to wake him up for school. Derek holds his breath as Isaac curses, grabbing his shoes and racing out the door. Derek can hear him muttering something about how he’s going to miss the bus, how he wouldn’t have to worry about a damn city bus if his _alpha_ would just fucking give him a ride.

Derek exhales when Isaac’s out of the station, eyes falling shut as the teen’s words run through his head again.

He can’t give Isaac a ride. He can’t give a shit about what Isaac thinks of him, about what his _pack_ thinks of him - if he does, they’ll start to expect it. Isaac will start to assume that Derek can always give him a ride to school and that means Derek will be expected to stick around.

When he inhales, he catches the scent of wolfsbane and lets it roll through him.

He doesn’t want to be _expected_ to stick around. Wants to know that he has the freedom to leave anytime he wants.

//

Sometimes, he wants to end everything so badly that his hands shake with it.

But killing himself takes effort, takes motivation, takes courage that he doesn’t have.

The thought makes him grin sadistically as he rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. He’s supposed to be an _Alpha_ , for Christ’s sake. Alphas are supposed to be strong.

But there are a lot of things Derek was never supposed to be.

_Weak. Naive. Murderer. Alpha._

It’s easier to stop caring when he counts the number of failures he’s already achieved.

//

Boyd and Erica tell him they’re leaving weeks later. They make the announcement like they aren’t aware that Derek knows - like they have no fucking _idea_ that Derek’s heard every damn word of it.

“You’re running,” Derek says simply, eyes flicking over to them. “You’ll always be running.”

Erica takes Boyd’s hand in hers and they run.

There’s a moment, brief but present, where Derek wants to chase after them. Wants to beg them for help, wants to beg them to _stay_ because he never wanted to be this person and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, they’d be able to save him.

But his mind quickly supplies a litany of doubt and self-hatred. It’s crippling enough that Derek gags and has to grip the edges of the table in front of him to keep from heaving.

_We’re needed. Not wanted._

He doesn’t follow them.

//

When he buys the loft, Isaac shoots him this hopeful little glance like things are going to get better. Like maybe Derek’s going to put more effort into ensuring that he sticks around, like maybe Derek actually wants him there while they search for Erica and Boyd.

Derek never explicitly says anything. He never tells Isaac why he bought the loft - decides instead that he’ll let the teenager make his own assumptions. It’s easier that way. It means that if Isaac gets his hopes up and Derek dashes all of them, all of that is on Isaac. Derek isn’t at fault.

The first thing he does on move-in day is cut out one of the floorboards near his bed so he can place the jar of wolfsbane underneath it.

After he replaces the floorboard, he stands up and realizes Isaac’s watching him.

“What is that?” he asks softly, sliding his hands into his pockets.

Derek takes a breath, jaw setting before he replies, “Nothing you need to worry about.”

His heart skips underneath the words and he hates himself for it. It isn’t an outright lie, but it’s almost one of omission.

He wonders what it would feel like if Isaac _did_ worry about him. If Isaac did show concern and try to help Derek through the fucked up mess of his own head.

Isaac tilts his head and his eyes flick to Derek’s chest, but he doesn’t mention the skip of Derek’s heart. He simply nods and heads into the kitchen.

It’s _stupid_ to think that Isaac would give a shit.

Derek’s chest starts to ache again - he lets his claws extend and curls his hands into fists, pushing the pain away as his own blood drips from his fists to the floor beneath him.

//

He carries Erica’s body out of the bank. Her curls fall over his shoulder and her arm hangs limply over Derek’s fingers on her waist.

She’s gone. It’s over for her. She’ll never have the opportunity to breathe again.

Derek’s fucking _envious_.

//

He buries Erica next to Laura, dirt caked underneath his fingernails after he pushes the last of the dirt back into place over her grave. The entire time, his mind is racing - all he can think about is the family he’s lost, the fact that Cora’s alive, the fact that his beta is dead and he should feel something. Something, _anything_ , should resonate.

But nothing does.

Derek punches the ground once, twice, chest building with the sound of his wolf as he punches the ground faster and faster. Lets the pain slice up his arm when gravel splits the skin between his knuckles and digs into his flesh.

“Let me,” Derek rasps, voice wrecked in the back of his throat. There’s a lump there that Derek can’t swallow away - just croaks past when he begs, “Let me, let me, just fucking _let me_.”

_Let me die. Let me crawl underneath the earth with you._

He sees a flash of Erica’s lifeless body behind his closed eyelids and it has him gagging, vomiting onto the grass next to him, slumping onto his forearms when the nausea’s passed and sobbing into the dirt.

He wants to feel so badly, but feeling means _hurting_.

Derek’s so fucking tired of hurting.

//

Boyd watches him a lot.

He always has. Now that he’s back, though, there’s a glint in his eyes that Derek doesn’t recognize. His heart drops, though, when he calls Boyd out on the staring and Boyd simply replies, “You would have let us kill you.”

It isn’t a question, it’s an accusation. Derek knows that.

He’s healed physically from the wounds Cora and Boyd inflicted, but he has no idea when he’ll manage to heal from the scars they’ve left behind.

Hell, from the scars he’s worn for _years_.

Instead of denying Boyd’s statement, Derek shrugs and whispers, “And if the sun hadn’t come up, you would have.”

Moments later, Boyd softly asks, “Do you need help, Derek?”

 _Yes_ , Derek thinks.

“I’m fine.”

//

Isaac starts to look at him differently after that, too. Derek’s almost positive that Boyd’s talked with him, and it’s confirmed when they both come into the loft a week later and ask Derek to sit down with them.

“What’s going on?” Derek asks, and tries to ignore the way his heart stutters when Boyd and Isaac share a look.

Isaac’s the first one to speak. “What’s underneath the floorboard by your bed, Derek?”

Derek stills all over. “I told you not to worry about that.”

“Derek,” Boyd cuts in, shaking his head a little as he sits forward. “Please. Let us help you, okay? We won’t - just.” He pauses, taking a breath and letting out slowly before he continues, “We won’t stop you. If you decide you want to leave, we’ll let you. But while you’re here? While you’re _breathing_? We’d like to help you.”

Isaac nods, eyes flicking from Boyd’s profile over to Derek’s face. “It’s okay to ask for help, Derek.”

“Why?” Derek asks. “Because you both give a shit?”

“Because we lost Erica,” Boyd replies, his voice cracking over Erica’s name. “And we don’t want to lose you, too.”

Derek’s voice is barely a sound at all when he whispers, “Why?”

“You’re our alpha. We might not always like you all that much, but it doesn’t mean we don’t want you here with us.”

His chin falls to his chest as he struggles to breathe. They’re offering to help him, to _understand_ him, and Derek can’t decide if he’s grateful or terrified.

“Wolfsbane,” Derek rasps. “It’s a jar of wolfsbane. In case I ever...”

He can’t finish the sentence. When he looks up and catches the look on both Boyd and Isaac’s faces, he realizes that he probably doesn’t have to. Probably _shouldn’t_.

“We won’t move it,” Boyd says softly. “It’ll still be there if you ever decide to use it. But we’re going to try and keep you from using it, okay?”

Swallowing, Derek squeezes his eyes shut and forces himself to nod.

He doesn’t let himself believe that anything will get better, though. Nothing ever has, nothing ever _will_ , and Derek’s powerless to change that.

But in his seat across from Boyd and Isaac, their eyes on him as he slowly opens his eyes and lets out a breath, Derek feels the faintest glimmer of hope in his chest for the first time in years.

_They need you because you’re their alpha. They don’t **want** you._

The hope fades as quickly as it came.

//

They use his claws to kill Boyd.

Boyd’s blood is underneath his fingernails, pouring over his hands, and Derek’s fucking _powerless_.

“No,” Derek whispers over and over, head shaking as he just _stares_. “No, it’s not okay. It’s not.”

“That feeling?” Boyd says softly, eyes already glazing over. “It was worth it.”

Derek listens to the slowing thump of Boyd’s heart until it stops.

This time, when he gazes at the lifeless body of his beta, he isn’t numb. He isn’t envious.

He aches.

He _aches_.

//

When the loft is dry again, when Boyd’s blood has been scrubbed from the floor, Derek pulls the board up and lifts the jar of wolfsbane with a still-bloodied hand.

He doesn’t even hesitate when he hands it to Isaac and whispers, “Give this to Deaton. I don’t want it anymore.”

Isaac leaves with the jar and Derek sinks to the floor when he’s gone, his palms flattening against the hardwood.

Boyd’s last words were that it was worth it. Living was _worth_ it.

Derek wants to find worth in living again. And when he does die, whenever that is, he wants to be able to say that he found something with meaning. He’ll have to take it hour by hour, he knows, because his own head’s already fighting against him. Already telling him that he won’t find worth, that he _won’t_ be able to change a damn thing.

But he flashes back to the warmth that was present in Boyd’s eyes even as he was dying and thinks, _I want that._

_I’m allowed to **have** that._

He breathes in and the scent of wolfsbane is gone.

Derek’s mind is blissfully silent for a few seconds. A few seconds long enough that he’s able to take another breath.

And another.

And another.


End file.
